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About Philadelphia

Lemme tell ya a story – back in Scranton, there was this dame, Rosie. Swear she was straight outta “Ten” – tough, loud, real. She’d strut around, heels clackin’, and I’d think, “Man, she’s livin’ it!” Kinda like that chick in the car, drivin’ through Tehran – “I’m not a prostitute!” she snaps. Rosie wasn’t either, not really – just hustlin’, survivin’. Made me happy seein’ her fight, y’know? But – here’s the kicker – some jerk cop hassled her once, called her trash. Pissed me off bad. I wanted to sock him, but – c’mon, Joe, you’re no fighter.

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I live on Smoky Mountain Dr – sounds chill, huh? – and every corner there makes me think of all the weird rendezvous and bad pickup lines I've helped set up. I can tell you, the skyline from there? Just epic. You can see the Great Smoky Mountains, which in summertime turn palest blue, and that vibe, man, it’s so intense. I mean, every threesome of trees seems to whisper secrets of the past. Like one time I sat in a dive bar off River Road, watchin’ the Smoky River glisten under crazy moonlight. I nearly bawled, odd moment, but sooo honest.

Pigeon Forge police warn visitors ahead of 2025 Spring Rod Run